


On Love Stories and Wand Buying

by carpfish



Category: Starry Sky
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Child Abandonment, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/pseuds/carpfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter AU, Tsubasa-centric.</p><blockquote>
  <p>Tsubasa’s never been one for love stories, but he’s always loved adventure stories.  </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	On Love Stories and Wand Buying

**Author's Note:**

> And here is this fandom's obligatory Harry Potter AU. You all knew it was coming. And I just spent a whole hour of my life designating wands for every single character. Oi vey.

The way Tsubasa hears it, his parents would have made a great love story. A handsome, talented young wizard from a high-standing pureblood family walks into a convenience store in the downtown of a muggle city a few minutes before midnight. He looks across the scuffed linoleum floor, and sees the bored high-school dropout cashier with the three piercings in her left ear and a metal stud beneath her lip, kneeling on the floor as she stacks boxes of cheap chocolate onto the bottom shelf. Her face is pretty enough. Her eyeliner is smoky and smudged from the long shift, there’s a splatter of faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her tongue unconsciously peeks out from between cherry-red lips to lick at her lip piercing. It must be new, the wizard thinks, and he wonders how that stud would feel against his own lips. She doesn’t notice the wizard at all as he approaches her, taking broad steps in his dragon-leather boots, until he squats down beside her and flashes a smile so enticing that would make a Veela swoon from envy. “Hello, love. Would you believe me if I told you I was a wizard?”

This is the part where Tsubasa imagines the background turning pink, and cartoon-like hearts floating about, because this, he is told, was how his parents fell in love at first sight. Perhaps his mother had given a coarse laugh, charming in its roughness, and told his father that he should go see a doctor. Or maybe she’d arched a thin eyebrow, quirked her lips into a smirk, and said that if he was a wizard, then he’d better damn well prove it.

Tsubasa doesn’t quite know how or why they fell for each other so fast. Perhaps the appeal of the lip piercing and dating a muggle girl was an allure too strong for his father to resist; the man always was a rebellious one, a veritable black sheep of the family, Tsubasa has been told. Blew up half the family mansion’s west wing in an accident involving a boggart when he was fifteen (Tsubasa sees remains of the scorch marks on some parts of the ceiling), nearly lost his life in a duel once, and was almost expelled from Hogwarts on more than one occasion. Or perhaps, there was something chemical and physiological that just clicked and reacted and exploded when their eyes met. Perhaps, even, it was because the moment they looked at each other, the clock on the grungy convenience store wall hit twelve, the date switched to February the 14th, and a sort of rare Valentines’ Day magic took place. Tsubasa doesn’t know.

Either way, three months later, his parents were very much deeply in love, and together they ran away to be eloped. She gave up her minimum wage job and one-room apartment with her unemployed (now former) boyfriend, while he forfeited his inheritance of a mansion of riches, and severed his ties with the one of the oldest pureblood families in the world. Tsubasa hears that his father never paid any attention to any objections to his relationship, and once said that it didn’t matter whether she was muggle or witch, he’d be willing to make enemies of the whole damn world just to be with her. His parents’ love transcended the boundaries between magic and mundane, rich and poor, and they left behind everything they knew for the sake of a future with one another. Tsubasa thinks that this is rather romantic. His parents would have certainly made a great love story, and had their lives been written into a novel, it surely would have sold millions of copies and received a movie adaptation.

It’s too bad that Tsubasa has never really been one for love stories. Especially the kinds of love stories where the credits don’t roll as the happy couple rides off into the sunset on a flying motorcycle, and nine months later, they return on that flying motorcycle and dump an unwanted baby onto the doorstep of the family mansion. Tsubasa’s been told that after they returned to the mansion that one last time, his parents disappeared like mist in the morning sunlight, never to be heard from again. Now, the only remnants of their great love story are a moving black-and-white photograph hidden deep in the corner of the attic, and Tsubasa himself.

Pureblood families are called as such for a reason, and in absence of the disgrace-to-the-family who sired him, it seems that the sins of the father have been projected onto Tsubasa. _Half blood children are less magically viable_ , Tsubasa hears one aunt whisper when she thinks his back is turned (the way she scrutinizes him with her narrow, unimpressed eyes says that she thinks he’s a squib already). An uncle proposes a list of local orphanages that would take him, and argues with Tsubasa’s grandfather about why they should keep raising a _bastard mudblood parasite_ (Tsubasa doesn’t say anything but mentally objects, because technically speaking, he’s only _half-mudblood_ ).  At fun family gatherings such as these, Grandpa Eisuke merely sighs, as if he’s amazed that this debate has continued on so many years after the matter, and repeats the same decision that he’d made the day an infant had showed up on his doorstep.

“This is my grandchild, and I will take care of him.”

There is a certain hierarchy in ancient pureblood families such as theirs, and Tsubasa understands enough of it to know that no matter how much his uncles and aunts and second-cousins-twice-removed may protest against it, Grandpa Eisuke’s word is law.  When Tsubasa finally shows signs of magical potential, it’s in the form of building blocks and pieces of broken toys that come to life according to his whim. When Tsubasa sees the smile in Grandpa Eisuke’s eyes when he shows him all his animated creations, Tsubasa feels for the first time that he’s worth the trouble, and that he’s done Grandpa Eisuke proud. (He also feels more than sees the look of subdued horror on the face of the aunt who thought he was a squib, and that in itself is also a very, very satisfying moment.)

In the year of Tsubasa’s sixth birthday, there’s a huge family gathering at the mansion to celebrate one of his cousins’ wedding. By this point, Tsubasa has lost all interest in interacting with anyone other than his grandparents and the various house elves that roam their estate. He exchanges the food, dancing, and fireworks in favor of exploring the attic. Although Grandpa Eisuke can silence his relatives’ complaints, he can’t silence their gazes, and Tsubasa is sick of looking into other people’s eyes and seeing himself reflected as nothing more than _the half-blood_.

Branding others with blood values appears to be an acquired talent, because when Tsubasa is half falling into a large, mostly-empty chest of old fur coats, he hears the door to the attic open with a stuttered creak, and he looks up, and that’s when he meets Azusa. Azusa is his cousin, from the city, Tsubasa learns, and when Azusa looks at Tsubasa, he doesn’t see him as a half-blood, or mudblood, or any blood at all, in fact. All Azusa sees is a new potential playmate.

This is the first time that Tsubasa has met anyone his own age, and he’s stunned when Azusa’s face splits into a wide grin, devoid of any disgust or judgment. “Hey, so you’re here to explore the attic too?” He asks, as he joins Tsubasa, clinging onto the edge of the crate, and his eyes shine so bright that Tsubasa can see the stars and magic crackling inside him.

Tsubasa doesn’t speak much, but Azusa does enough talking for the both of them. When they go for dinner, Azusa is completely oblivious to his family’s stares of approval when he asks if he and Tsubasa can sit together. Either that or he doesn’t care, and Tsubasa can scarcely tell which is more amazing. When the wedding is over, Azusa tells Tsubasa that he had a lot more fun this weekend than he’d ever expected, and that they’d see each other again, soon. Thus concluded the whirlwind affair of Tsubasa making his first and best friend.

It’s only afterwards that he learns that Azusa is what people call a prodigy, a genius. Exceptionally talented and filled with potential, most likely to be one of the next great wizards of their age. It’s no wonder that Azusa’s parents don’t want him associating with the family half-blood, and it’s no wonder why Tsubasa doesn’t ever see Azusa at family gatherings again.

For the remainder of his years, although now with the single exception of Azusa, Tsubasa dislikes his extended family as much as he loves his grandparents. Grandpa Eisuke passes away the year that Tsubasa turns ten, several months after Tsubasa’s Hogwarts Acceptance letter had arrived.  It’s a surprise to everyone aside from Tsubasa’s grandmother that Grandpa Eisuke had a large portion of his wealth and estate to Tsubasa. And it was a good thing too, Grandma Shino says. Tsubasa’s father had cleared out his vault at Gringotts before eloping, and the money for Tsubasa’s school books and uniform robes have to come from somewhere.

Between his first trip to Diagon Alley and having to pack all his belongings in preparation for Hogwarts, Tsubasa barely has time to grieve for his grandfather. Instead, he stuffs away his sadness then same way he forces clothes into his bulging suitcase, letting it coalesce into a dark growth deep inside his chest as long as he doesn’t need to deal with it for now. Grandma Shino becomes his pillar of strength now, as she shepherds him from shop to shop, marking item after item off the extensive school supplies list that came with the acceptance letter.

The number of people and faces and sights in Diagon Alley make Tsubasa nervous, which is to be expected considering how he’d scarcely ever left his grandparent’s countryside estate. Tsubasa clutches Grandma Shion’s bony wrist with both hands, and vaguely wonders how Azusa can survive living in the city (then again, if it’s Azusa, he can probably do nearly anything). Grandma Shion looks down at him, an understanding gaze softening her severe face and sharp cheekbones, and she tells him that there’s only one thing left that they have to buy, then they’ll go home.

The shop that Grandma Shion shuffles Tsubasa into smells of wood and spices, and Tsubasa can’t help but stare in wonder at the countless shelves of neatly organized little boxes. The man at the front of the desk looks old enough to rival Tsubasa’s grandparents in age, with deep furrows and wrinkles in his forehead that remind Tsubasa of the ditches on the side of dirt roads. But there are laughter lines tracing the corners of his features as well, and Tsubasa is infinitely more trusting of elderly than he is of adults, so he feels as though he doesn’t need to be afraid of this man.

The old man at the desk smiles, and clasps his hands in front of him welcomingly. Tsubasa thinks of an old turtle with spectacles that he once saw in a picture book.  “It’s been a long time since you last came to see me, Missus Amaha,” He greets amiably. “I thought all your children had long grown up?”

Grandma Shion’s stern expression gains a note of amusement. “This is my grandson,” she replies quickly, but her voice isn’t sharp. “We’re here to purchase a wand for him.”

The turtle man lifts his spectacles and cranes his head to get a closer look at Tsubasa, and Tsubasa can feel Grandma Shion’s hand on the small of his back, prompting him to take a step closer. He does, and Tsubasa can see the sparse hairs on top of the man’s mostly-bald scalp. “Oh yes,” the turtle man murmurs, more to himself than to Tsubasa. “I can see it now. Mitsuhiro’s son, of course, I can see it. I remember Mitsuhiro. Sycamore, with dragon heartstring…” The hairs on the back of Tsubasa’s neck tingle when he hears that near-taboo name, and suddenly, he feels distinctly uncomfortable under this old man’s scrutiny. Tsubasa’s waiting for the man to suddenly draw back and deem him unworthy. _Mudblood, halfblood, bastard child_. It must be written all over his face.

Grandma Shino’s clears her throat pointedly, and the turtle man suddenly jerks to attention, as if breaking out of a daydream. His blinks his wide eyes, startled, before focusing his gaze back onto Tsubasa. “Ah, yes, of course, the wand. Forgive me, young man. I’ll get right to it!” With that, in a sudden show of dynamism, the man behind the counter clambers onto a wheeled ladder and kicks off from the counter to go speeding deep into the shop, through the labyrinth of shelves. An echoing shout reverberates from the very back. “And what’s your name, young man? Pardon me, but I forgot to ask.”

Tsubasa looks to Grandma Shion, but she stares right back at him, gesturing with her chin for him to answer himself. Tsubasa draws in a breath, not used to speaking loudly, and yells, “Tsubasa! Amaha Tsubasa!” There’s a rumble and clatter of wood from the back of the shop, and Tsubasa’s eyes go wide in horror, afraid that he’s caused an accident, but Grandma Shion places a hand on his shoulder.

Within moments, the man is whizzing back through the shelves, and lands back behind the counter with a hop. “Amaha Tsubasa,” he repeats, voice seeming much livelier than before. “You are a young wizard of great potential, but first you’ll need an instrument to channel that talent through.” He has three boxes tucked beneath his arm, and places them on the wooden surface of the counter, spreading them out like a hand of tarot cards. “Try this one first,” the turtle man says, opening the one in the center.

The first wand is short, but thick with a corkscrew base decorated with glossy varnish. Tsubasa glances first back at Grandma Shion, then at the turtle man, at a loss for what to do. “Why pick it up, boy. Give it a wave,” The turtle man says, excitedly urging him on, and Tsubasa follows his instructions. At first, there is nothing, and Tsubasa quickly begins to panic, thinking that there may be something wrong with him. Perhaps he has no magic talent after all, like that one aunt said. In his fluster, he jerks the wand more forcefully, slashing it forward in a violent motion. There’s a delayed reaction, and all of a sudden, a burst of smoke and sparks explodes from the tip of the wand, showering onto the countertop with a clatter. The air smells of burning, and Tsubasa drops the wand in fright.

“Ah, not that one it seems. I thought dogwood might fit, but evidently not…” The turtle man seems completely fazed by the catastrophe, and Tsubasa just looks at him with bewildered eyes. He eventually notices Tsubasa’s shock, and his wrinkled face folds back into a smile. “Oh, don’t worry, boy. This is standard fare for a wands seller, and dogwood is a mischievous wood to master. We just have to find the right fit for you, see? The wand chooses the wizard after all.” As he dispenses that adage, the man slides open a second box, and hands the wand inside to Tsubasa. “Now give this a test.”

This wand is longer, lighter-colored with a floral design carved into the round base. Tsubasa picks up this one cautiously, afraid of inciting any further disasters, and testily holds it with three fingers, as one might hold a teacup. Grandma Shion and the wandmaker look on expectantly as he gives it one short flick, then another. The tip of the wand emits a soft glow, and a slim trail of silvery mist seems to leak out of it, floating in the air as it follows the motions of Tsubasa’s wand. Tsubasa’s eyes widen in delight, and he tries to gesture a wider, bigger motion, when all of a sudden, he hears a crackling sound, and the silver trail disappears immediately, as if it had shattered and fallen to pieces.

This time, Tsubasa is a bit crestfallen as he returns the wand to its cushioned case, but the turtle man still seems hopeful. “Fear not, third time’s the charm!” He encourages, handing the last box to Tsubasa. “I think this one should do the trick. It rarely takes me more than three tries. Go on.” The old man lifts the wand out of the box, and presses it into Tsubasa’s hand. “Walnut, phoenix feather core, roughly 12 inches, and suitably springy. This one likes you, I think.”

The wand is long for his ten year old hand, but Tsubasa finds that the flared handle fits quite comfortably into his palm. It’s warm to the touch, and Tsubasa quietly prays that this is the one for him. He draws the wand in an upwards arc, and feels a tingle up his arm, but sees nothing. Perplexed, he tries again, and again, tracing wild shapes in the air but to no visible avail. Tsubasa’s hopes are just about to fall again when he hears a rasping sound behind him, and it takes him several moments to realize that Grandma Shion is laughing. Whipping around to face her, Tsubasa is shocked to see that all of the boxes that were in the shelves behind him when he’d first entered the shop are not floating around in a slowly moving spiral.

The turtle man’s grin is so wide that he looks as if his face could split in two, and he fits the wand back into its box as Grandma Shion pays the 7 gallions cost. Tsubasa feels warm as he presses the slim box to his chest, and the wand seller smiles down at him. “Walnut, the wand of inventors. I tell you, Missus Amaha, this boy has great potential,” he chuckles, and Grandma Shion nods graciously, before taking Tsubasa’s hand and leading him out of the shop.

“Say thank you to Mr. Ollivander, Tsubasa,” Grandma Shion whispers beneath her breath before they get to the door, and Tsubasa looks back over his shoulder, before weakly calling out his thanks.

“Any time, Amaha Tsubasa. I expect impressive feats from you!” Ollivander replies, and Tsubasa gives a small smile in return, and thinks that it’s so nice to have someone hope in him for once.

Unfortunately, Tsubasa barely has any time to practice with his wand when he returns home, because once he does, Grandma Shion is a flurry of efficiency and packing. Tsubasa marvels at his grandmother’s talent with the Extension Charm, and has to dissuade her from packing him a veritable feast of snacks to keep him sated on the train. The day of departure to Hogwarts sneaks up on him, and before he knows it, it has already arrived.

Once again, Tsubasa is taken aback by the number of people that flood King’s Cross Station on the morning of departure, but this time instead of anxiety, his nerves buzz with excitement. It’s hard not to be infected by the charge of movement and energy that fills the terminal. He holds on tight to Grandma Shion as she pushes his luggage cart through the station, her rigid presence parting the crowd like the red sea.

There are so many children: children his age, and older children, and younger children here to see their older siblings off. Tsubasa’s eyes scan the crowd, and finally, on the stroke of a miracle, he finds a face he recognizes in the ocean of strangers. Tsubasa feels his heart light up like a bonfire and waves his hand, shouting loudly, and hoping that he’ll be heard. Tsubasa lets go of Grandma Shion’s hand, and discards his fear, pushing past shoulders and carts to reach his destination.  

Then, there he is. Standing near the edge of the platform, ebony hair matching the black of his school robes, is Azusa. Azusa with the bright smile and shining, star-filled eyes, and the courageous obliviousness, leaning on a suitcase. He lets out a hoot of joy, and barrels into Azusa with the force of his hug, nearly ending it for the both of them by tipping them off the edge of the terminal and onto the tracks, if Azusa hadn’t been able to hold his ground.

When they’re inside the Hogwarts Express, and the train is beginning to move on the tracks, there are no parents or relatives to keep Azusa and Tsubasa from sitting in the same compartment together, comparing stories and wands and house aspirations and sharing candy until they both burst. Tsubasa leans out from the window and waves to Grandma Shion, who suddenly looks a lot less sharp and a lot smaller as she waves back at him, standing proudly alone on the platform. Then when he finally can’t see the station anymore, Tsubasa settles down into the cushioned train seats and stares out the window with bright eyes and bright hopes.

Tsubasa’s never been one for love stories, but he’s always loved adventure stories.  


End file.
